Makorea

MAKO

She’s been gone more than half my life now. 

Forty years ago, to be precise. 

Forty years without a mother. 

One can never understand. 

The teenage years. 

The puberty, period, and baby years. 

The birthday years. 

The anniversary years. 

The whānau get together years.   

All gone.  

Zilch. 

To grow up without a mother is like raising yourself. 

They say it takes a village to raise a child. 

Bullshit, there was no village. 

I created my village. 

End of story. 

MAKEO 

This maunga became my solace.  

I climb Makeo crying, gorse tearing at my legs and arms. 

I deserve this. 

This is my maunga punishing me. 

Just like when she was gone. 

In a blink of an eye, they took her out the gate. 

My life would never be the same again. 

How the hell did everyone carry on as normal? 

When my life was in threads. 

The nights that I spent grieving into my pillow. 

I was never going to be good enough. 

I shouldn’t have gone back to school. 

I was embarrassed, ashamed.

Everyone was talking about me. 

He went on with his life, and that was OK. 

She was loved, which is what she deserved. 

I was lost and grieving. 

I still love her with all my heart. 

The piece that they took away,

Won’t be replaced until she comes home. 

Makeo was my solace. 

Makeo is my maunga.

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